


in your bed I lay reeling

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/F, Shower Sex, Unexpected Visitors, what are you doing in my bed?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Cat comes home exhausted, with the board out for blood when they meet the following morning. The last thing she's expecting is an undressed Supergirl in her bed, but Cat is nothing if not adaptable.*This was originally a ficlet but it's been expanded considerably into this one-shot.





	in your bed I lay reeling

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commissioned request for a lovely anon - sorry it took a while after Virtual Season and getting ballet submitted! If you have an AO3 let me know and I'll gift it to you properly. Part 2 of your commission will be up shortly!

Cat stumbles as the door slides open, having just about managed to put her eye at the thing and put her hand on the other thing and God, why had she let Kara talk her into yet another security upgrade? If not for the fact that Carter deserved every possible safeguard, Cat would have resented the intrusion and the mess. 

She kicks her shoes along the hallway and wonders why it sounds so much like a bowling alley. Manolos shouldn’t clatter like that. Or maybe she shouldn’t throw things. Whatever. 

Stupid private jets should _not_ have problems with their landing gear, leading to an hour’s delay and the roughest landing outside of being tossed from the 40th floor. All of which required an extra couple of drinks while waiting for the car to be brought around. Cutting in to the very limited hours Cat has to rest before facing work and the CatCo board in the morning. They’re less than thrilled at her continuing endorsement of Supergirl, and she may not survive this next attempt at a coup.

She stops at Carter’s door before remembering that, of course, he’s with his father. Kara schedules anything out of town for those days, short of an invitation from the President herself. It makes the sprawling apartment feel a little bit lonelier to realize that, and Cat hurries the last few steps to her own bedroom. 

Thankfully she doesn’t need much brain power for her nightly ablutions, stripping down to nothing in seconds flat. Thank God Liz Earle’s hot cleanse really does get the makeup off in one swipe. She’s just got to slap on some night oil for her face and check her email one last time, and both of those can be done from the comfort of her-

“Jesus Christ!”

“Who?”

“Kara?”

“Miss Grant?”

Her heart is going to beat out of her chest, because in the soft light of her beside lamp, the Kara revealed bolt upright in Cat’s bed is a very, very naked one.

“Is there a reason you’re naked? In my _bed_?”

“I… oh Rao,” Kara curses, scrambling away and pulling the sheets back over her. She’s the personification of a deer in the headlights and Cat doesn’t know if she’s dreaming - or worse, hallucinating - because nothing about this makes sense. “I just wanted to see if you got back okay.”

“Which might explain you sitting in my living room. Clothed.” Cat realizes too late that she’s not exactly dressed for visitors either. Unlike Kara, she makes no move to cover up. This is her house, dammit. 

“Your plane, I heard the trouble but I couldn’t get there in time. So I came to wait but my suit… the slime. And I was so tired. It took four hours to beat that alien with the horns,” Kara whines, and she sounds a little delirious. She must be, since she hasn’t officially _told_ Cat that she’s Supergirl yet. No matter how obvious it’s been.

“Where is the slimy suit?” Cat has limits, and slime on her furniture is one of them.

“Balcony,” Kara says around a huge yawn. “I can go. I was just worried.”

Despite herself, Cat leans across and gently touches Kara’s cheek. This concern and thoughtfulness hasn’t abated even though she’s no longer Cat’s assistant. If anything it’s all the more genuine for not being her job. But Kara is making poor decisions in her exhausted state, and Cat has no intention of being one of them.

“I’ll give you some pajamas,” she offers gently. “You’re too tired to fly.”

“I can’t fly,” Kara mumbles, the lie half-hearted in her relief. “You want me to go sleep on the couch?”

“Right here is fine,” Cat assures her, crossing the room quickly and tossing a leftover pair of the awful flannel things her ex-husband used to sleep in at Kara. She considers getting something for herself, but the coordination involved barely seems worth it. Kara wriggles into the pajama shirt, just about long enough to preserve some modesty. As she does, Cat slips beneath the duvet and plumps her pillow as though they do this every night.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Kara whispers as Cat clicks the light off. “And I’m really glad you’re letting me stay.”

“We have the board in the morning,” Cat replies, because it’s easier to bear with the thought of a true ally at her side. “Get some rest.” She has to bite her tongue not to tack a ‘darling’ on the end of that. Scotch and flight delays have a lot to answer for. 

“Gonna hug you,” Kara admits, sleep already pulling her back under. She does exactly that, the pressure of her arm around Cat’s waist reassuring and even. 

“Goodnight,” Cat murmurs, already dreading the cold light of morning when she’ll have to pretend this never happened. “Thank you for caring, Kara.”

Kara mutters something against Cat’s bare shoulder. It sounds a lot like “how could I not?”

***

Ordinarily, between the alcohol and the exhaustion, Cat would be struggling to wake to her cacophony of alarms that rouse her each morning. Instead she’s blinking awake two hours later, Kara’s strong arm still wrapped around her waist like a life preserver. 

The gentle scratch of flannel at Cat’s bare back reminds her of the less than orthodox sleeping arrangements. Had she really crawled into bed with Kara wearing nothing more than a tired expression? Not that Kara’s token nod to pajamas is helping much on that front. The legs entangled with Cat’s own are bare and perfectly smooth. And if Cat were to wriggle back just a fraction, she’d find her bare ass meeting with… 

Well.

Time to turn over. Kick the girl out and grab the last precious fragments of sleep before the latest showdown in a career full of them. 

“Kara?” Cat asks as she turns, never quite escaping Kara’s hold and frankly not trying all that hard.

“No.”

Cat huffs through her nose, but it’s more fond than exasperated. “No, you’re not Kara? Are you really going to try that again?”

“No I’m not getting up yet,” Kara clarifies, pulling Cat closer. “What’s the hurry?”

“Just another make-or-break board meeting,” Cat reminds her. “Or had you forgotten the knives are out again?”

“What are you supposed to have done this time?” And oh, Kara is wriggling into a sitting position. The buttons of the borrowed shirt don’t hold against the pull of movement, baring the planes of her chest at one end and the hint of sculpted abs at the other. She looks content in her rumpled sleepiness, sinking back into the piles of pillows at the top of the bed. “Have you been rounding up Dalmatians to make a coat? No, wait. You don’t have, um, another kid somewhere do you?”

“You’re a little punchy before sunrise.” Cat pulls the covers around herself, finally preserving a little modesty. “I believe this time they feel my _liberal agenda_ is costing us customers. I sense Dirk’s hand at work, from behind the scenes this time.”

“I should get going,” Kara announces, and she zips across the room to the bathroom and back in the time it takes Cat to exhale. “Is there anywhere I can sort of… hose down my suit before I fly home? Or if you had something in that kind of blue or red I could wear for travel, then I can rinse it down on my roof.”

“Don’t you have spares?”

“I’m pretty tough on clothes,” Kara admits. “My powers shield them to an extent, but I only have one cape. That’s… it’s special.”

“It’s from your home,” Cat surmises, always filling in the gaps with this one. “Then bring it in and see what you can achieve in the bathroom.”

“Thank you.”

The whooshing sensation is quite nice, now Cat’s allowed to see it. She languishes in the sheets a few moments longer, stretching her calves until they pull taut, that delicious burning somewhere on the edge of pleasure and pain. All these years of yoga and pilates have kept her limber, but there’s no stretch quite like the morning one to make her so very aware of her body. Idiots who’ve been fortunate to share her bed in the past have compared her love of a good stretch to her feline namesake; at least Kara would never be so lacking in imagination. 

Speaking of whom, she’s been gone quite a while for someone who can work that fast. Cat slips out of bed and pulls on her robe with some reluctance. The knot is barely tied, just a nod to propriety. Kara is still an employee, after all. Even if she is an employee with very long, very bare legs, wearing a pajama shirt that’s now soaking wet and plastered to her skin. The hanging Supergirl suit and cape are sodden too, though much cleaner than Cat had been expecting. They drip in unison from the rail where they’re hanging.

“Can’t you…” Cat wriggles her fingers vaguely. “Like a spin cycle?”

“Oh, I will,” Kara replies, grabbing a towel only to hold it aimlessly in both hands. “Ms Grant--”

“Cat. You slept in my bed, didn’t you?”

“Right. Cat. Can I ask you just one thing?”

Cat leans against the marble counter with its unnecessary twin sinks. Her robe falls open an inch or two, but she makes no move to retrieve it. “Go on.”

“Whatever they say in there, no matter what dirt they throw at you, or how much it gets your temper up… please don’t quit. Don’t walk out on CatCo. Don’t sell it to someone who means well. Don’t decide to take a sabbatical and disappear into the mountains on the other side of the world. Just… stay? Could you do that?”

It’s a heartfelt plea, Cat can tell that much. There’s nothing surprising about the orphan girl having abandonment issues, but the sheer rawness of Kara’s need shocks Cat all the same. 

“On one condition.” Cat sees the hunger, knows she’s on steady ground. What was she just thinking about employees and propriety? “Tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you need me to stay so badly.” And Kara, all verb and motion and power, she does it instead of saying it. She advances on Cat, backs her against the glass wall of her rainforest shower, and kisses her for all that they’re both worth. 

Oh, it’s lack in elegance for a second or two, that brief confusion of whose head will tilt where, avoiding that clash of teeth when their lips instinctively part, but Kara has always been a quick study. She allows Cat to take over, directing the kiss with surer motions, and matches her thrilling touch for thrilling touch. 

As divine as the moment turns out to be, Cat knows that time is not on their side, not now. 

“I have to shower,” she warns, pushing Kara gently and getting no purchase with the flat of her palms. There’s the immovable object to Cat’s unstoppable force. Instead of leaving, Kara finally ditches the wet flannel, and steers Cat into the shower cubicle, smacking the dial to activate the presets. They’re kissing again, open-mouthed and hungry and Cat isn’t actually sure that they ever stopped. There’s the spray of water against her back, just the right side of scalding, and then Kara’s trembling long fingers are running through her hair, letting the water follow in its wake. 

And there’s a point where it becomes impossible to tell what this is between them. Compassion perhaps, in the reverent way Kara skims the water from Cat’s collarbones. But then it’s definitely lust in way Cat’s teeth nip at the impenetrable skin of Kara’s elegant throat. The girl has royalty in her posture, hide it though she tries. Still, Kara’s knees buckle when Cat slips that first finger deep inside, and the look when she opens her eyes is something more than Cat can handle before coffee, before ten dates and a late night with too much champagne. She knows Kara’s been saying it with a look for longer than either of them care to admit, so it can stay unsaid a little longer. Cat kisses Kara on the mouth with extra care, just to be sure no utterance can escape. 

God knows they’re not ready for that.

There’s water running down her face when she comes, and Cat doesn’t mind the mixed sensation. Kara’s on her knees, because where else would she be, given half a chance? The movements of her tongue are certainly something close to worship. With one leg hooked over Kara’s shoulder and a second climax chasing down the first, Cat makes a wordless plea for mercy. She hasn’t been allowed to finish what she started, and her fingers twitch with the need to explore Kara further, to make her writhe and shout and maybe even shatter the tiles on the walls, if Cat gets her way.

“What about the board?” Kara asks, the picture of faux-innocence when Cat motions for her to stand, and they wrap their arms around each other for balance. They share Cat’s taste in a long, tender kiss, and Cat has half a mind to shut off the phone lines and jettison her laptop through the nearest window. Let them wait. Let them wonder. Let them speculate and gossip, because whatever sordid story they conjure, it can’t come close to the reality of finally having Kara here like this.

“They’ll wait,” Cat assures her, pushing Kara roughly against the wall, pleased when she complies. “But you won’t.”

“No,” Kara agrees with a lazy grin, water rippling down her sculpted breasts, splashing off those abs that Cat wants her mouth on, immediately. “I won’t.”

***

The board is still milling around picking at their overpriced pastries and grumbling about whether the provided coffee is hot enough when Cat arrives. If she’d known ten years ago how irritating they’d all be, she might never have taken CatCo public. No matter how many checks roll in, no matter how many zeroes on them, it never ceases to feel like cutting her up her soul for some neverending corporate bakesale. 

“I hope we can keep this brief,” she admonishes before they even start, mother home to bring her unruly children in line. Unlike their unfortunate offerings, the latte in her hand is scalding hot, recently lasered mid-flight while Cat’s hair dried and the slight creases were blown out of her teal silk blouse. She’ll be taking no prisoners today. Glancing around, she can see they’re already working that out.

“In some kind of hurry?” Stan asks, and Cat shoots him the fake beaming smile reserved for Dirk’s closest ally. “More bashing of the Republican party to sanction on your channels?”

“My channels will bash and and all incompetence, Stan. Whichever side of the aisle it’s found on. No, I want to conclude today’s asinine attempt to oust me, because I have travel plans.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Oh, only for a week or so. I’ve recently been inspired to open up the place in St. Barth’s. And you all know how it is. Once the idea grips you…”

Cat smirks at the sight of Kara sitting outside, clearly overhearing every word. A moment later Kara is on a call. Booking the jet, no doubt. As perfect as ever. 

“Whoever said anything about ousting you?” Adele asks from her seat on Cat’s left. “I should think we had quite enough of that nonsense with Armstrong.”

“How right you are,” Cat agrees, realizing that there might be more ass-kissing that kicking in her immediate future. She winks at Kara through the glass for good measure, enjoying both the blush and fumbling with her phone that ensues. 

Tomorrow morning, Cat fully intends to find Kara naked in her bed again. Only this time, it won’t be too much of a shock. 


End file.
